


Weak

by CoffeeQuill



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Assassins & Hitmen, Bad Sex, Crime AU, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate Behavior, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Modern Era, Organized Crime, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: It was always another day, another hit, another death. One after the other after the other in an endless cycle until the world around you seems dead and all you have left is the same group of people that fucked you up in the first place.Life for Alex is an endless cycle. Each order from Washington means more blood on his hands and his moral compass has been bent in half beyond repair. But in that endless cycle, he has John, and they can be fucked up together in their own shitty ways.





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. Just a thing I got inspiration for and had to write. I've got a longer plot if anyone is actually interested.

When he woke, his head was pounding and every muscle in his body ached. Sunlight was streaming across the bedroom floor and was far too bright. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning away, only to become aware of the weight on top of him.

Alex sighed, then took a deep breath before squirming out from under John. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on, then a shirt, his or not. It was a little too big, definitely John’s, but he didn’t care much as he stood and walked to the door. His head felt like it was being used as a drum, yet he wanted coffee, and fucking hell if John didn’t have a keurig and decent k-cups.

He kicked empty shell casings by his feet. His jeans were on the floor by the bedroom door, his new gum pack sticking out of the back pocket. His jacket was by the entrance to the kitchen, at the wall that John had shoved him up against. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his waist before walking into the kitchen; by the toaster was a keurig, a wheel of k-cups beside it, and Alex felt relief as he grabbed one, putting it in. He rummaged through the cabinets before finding a sizable mug and pressed the largest button.

As the machine whirred to life, Alex leaned against the counter, rubbing at his eyes. Their beer bottles were gathered around the kitchen table, some broken on the floor. The hall closet was ajar, John’s gun cases visible, boxes of ammo beside them. Alex groaned and straightened up, looking around. If his fuck partner was so damn fond of drugs, he’d better have Advil, or Alex would throw a fit. Keurigs and Advil were just  _ essentials. _

By the time the mug was full, Alex was in the bathroom, downing two tablets from a bottle of ibuprofen. He yawned, then walked back to the kitchen.

John leaned against the counter, arms crossed. The keurig was pouring another cup, Alex’s steaming beside it. “Didn’t bother to wake me up?”

“You sleeping is the only time I don’t have to hear you talk,” Alex muttered. He opened the fridge, then groaned at the smell. He grabbed the milk and slammed the door shut. “I’d tell you to get a maid or some shit, but that would require you to, uh,  _ do something  _ with all your guns, rope, syringes…”

“You love the rope,” John said with a teasing smirk.

Alex poured milk in, then sugar, before stirring thoughtfully. “Do I love being tied up, or do you have me pinned before I can actually do anything about it?”

John set a hand on the small of his back and pulled him close, their lips inches apart. He gazed at Alex with lust in his eyes, that charming grin. “Where’s the fun if the struggle isn’t at least a  _ little  _ real?” he murmured, his hand dropping. “You behaved nicely last night, though.”

“When you got me drunk and high as fuck?” Alex grumbled and took a sip of coffee. “This hangover is your fault.”

“The coffee is my apology, then.” John pushed Alex’s mug aside and kissed him. “... Fire escape?”

Alex mumbled an incoherent reply but turned and walked to the window, leading to the fire escape outside. He opened it and climbed through, the chilled spring air hitting his skin. He heard John rummage around before following. It wasn’t cold enough to need a coat, but his exposed skin felt the chill and goosebumps rose.

John settled with his back to the metal gate. He held his cup of coffee but had a cigarette in his mouth, lighting up. Alex sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest, squirming until he was comfortable. An arm wrapped around his chest, holding him close, and Alex wrinkled his nose as he inhaled the smoke. “You smell like shit from that,” he grumbled.

“Aw, concerned about me, babe?”

“I’m not the smoker but you make me smell like one.”

“Gonna lecture me about lung cancer again?”

“I’m of the opinion that if you somehow make it out of all this shit and make it past thirty, it shouldn’t be cancer that takes you down.”

“People in our business don’t make it past thirty, babe. It’ll be a bullet in my head before cancer can touch this, either from an enemy or one of the boys.”

“Washington won’t have you killed,” Alex muttered. “You’re too good and he knows you’re loyal.”

“No, see, that’s  _ you.”  _ John puffed out more smoke, running his finger over Alex’s chest in shapes. “You’re the golden boy, the precious son, loyal to a fault. Washington adores you, his darling little assassin, the attack dog that kills on command. He’d have me killed if he ever thought I was leading you astray.”

“Astray from what?” Alex huffed, rolling his eyes. He sipped more coffee.

“Him, of course. Washington is top dog of our pack and all the puppies need to stay in line.”

“You say all that with an awful lot of contempt,” Alex said.

“Not contempt, just awareness.” John flicked ash off his cigarette, then blew the smoke out, against Alex’s cheek. Alex grumbled and turned away. “... Fuck, you’re hot, you know. Like, sexiest man I know.”

“Such a way with words,” Alex said.

“Oh, don’t get sarcastic with me.” John kissed his neck. “Do you even remember how many times you came last night? How many times I emptied myself inside of you?”

Alex huffed. “Don’t start this-”

Radio static. Faint voices, jumbled together, with grainy quality. Alex looked towards the window, John’s radio sitting on the table. He started to get up.

John pulled him back down, a strong arm around his waist. “Hell no, darling, not us.”

Alex huffed. “Jack-”

“Washington gave us two,  _ two  _ days off. Exactly  _ two  _ days that we don’t have a leash and we can roam the world before he calls us back to be his loyal bitches once more. Relax, Alex, we’ll see the light show from here.”

“Light show?”

“Frenchie’s initiation day, remember?”

Alex frowned, then nodded. Gilbert de Lafayette was the new kid, the shiny newcomer from across the seas who came after being  _ inspired  _ by their acts, like so many other pathetic kids who dropped themselves on Washington’s doorstep with bows on top. Rarely did they earn their keep, usually failing initiation, out of mistakes made or backing out from nerves. “I haven't heard anything.”

“Keltzer Bank.” John pointed at a sleek building on the city block that rose above the others, its name in red letters. “Owner skipped out on a payment to us, didn't want a transaction with Washington to show up on a search. Job is to plant a bomb inside the bank, confront the owner, and hit the shiny red button if he doesn't comply.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Might have managed to peek in Washington’s file when I was in the office.” John smirked and squeezed him.

“So we’re here to watch?”

“If the bomb goes off or not. We’re not the only ones.” He pointed at the hotel nearby, facing the bank from the south. “Plenty of the boys grabbed some rooms to watch off the balconies.”

“How do you know  _ that?” _

“They talked on the radio last night.” John smirked. “Well, you were tied up and shitfaced in my bed while continuously passing out. I'm sure you didn't hear.”

“Fuck you,” Alex grumbled. “Who's handling him?”

“Tommy Jefferson.” John rested his chin on Alex’s shoulder, taking a sip of coffee.

Alex frowned. “Jefferson usually…”

“Kills the initiates who fuck up bad? Yeah, this was supposed to be my mission before they handed it over to Frenchboy. Washington was pretty adamant that this get done. Kid fucks up and Jefferson’s got orders to put a bullet in his head, no loose ends.” John looked at him. “This was going to be a lead in to you. If the bomb wasn't enough, you went after his wife or someone.”

“Joy,” Alex muttered.

“Is this what it's like? Sitting around, waiting for the inciting incident? So detached from what's happening, never the one in danger?”

John was goading him, pushing him to start an argument. Alex scowled, not at all in the mood. “Shut  _ up _ .” He tried to stand.

John pulled him back down.  _ “Hey-” _

“I'm getting more coffee,” Alex snapped, pulling his wrist back. “Calm down.”

John made a face but backed down, flicking ash off his cigarette. Alex climbed back inside the apartment and walked to the keurig, taking a deep breath.

He wanted Lafayette to succeed. He liked the kid, for the week or so he’d been around. He only really had friends in Alex and Jefferson -  _ fuck  _ Jefferson - when they were the only two who spoke his language. He was a quick study in English, managing it far better than Alex had expected. A good kid who deserved to get through this.

The machine spit out the coffee. A few feet away, on the kitchen table, were the lines of cocaine they’d done last night. His head was pounding bad and he sighed, grabbing the milk. He really couldn't remember last night. John was an ass like that. He stirred in the sugar and took a sip, closing his eyes.

He didn't hear John come back in, he was too stealthy for that, but arms wrapped around his waist and hips pressed into him from behind. “Tired, babe?”

“Sore and hungover because of you. Leave me alone.” Alex sighed and took a gulp.

“Don't be like that. You'd stop coming around every time I call you if you didn't like what I do to you.”

“Oh, I just come here to get high, Jack. Takes the edge off.”

John made a sound of  _ you’re being ridiculous  _ and pulled Alex back against his chest. “Cute. And not true. You know I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Alex tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes as John pressed kisses to his neck.  _ Perhaps  _ John was the best to ever fuck him, but Alex would chalk it up to his weird-ass fetishes that he wasn’t really shy about. Past lovers were careful, treaded lightly, always afraid of scaring him away.

The first time they fucked, it was vanilla, quick releases while they waited for a target. The second time, Alex was tied up in his own bed and could barely move as John played him like a fiddle, begging for release.

“Gonna miss the show?” John murmured against his skin. “I’d love to see if our little French boy hits the mark or bites the bullet.”

Alex didn’t resist as John pulled him back to the window. He climbed out and walked to the rail, leaning over it. John followed behind with the radio in hand. Alex didn’t react as John pressed into him from behind, the same position as at the counter. He swore, realizing he’d forgotten his coffee.

“Do you think we’d be the ones to kill each other?”

Alex frowned. He looked back at John, then sighed when his boxers were tugged down. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone fucks up or crosses our dear leader. Washington sends someone else to kill them, the closest they have to a friend, a lover if so willing. Someone who knows them well enough to be able to track them, kill them, bring their head back on a silver platter.” A slick finger pushed inside of him, then a second. “If I became a loose end, do you think Washington would send you to kill me?”

Alex scowled. “Are you seriously going to fuck me  _ while  _ talking about one day murdering each other for betrayal?”

“I’m just posing the question.” Alex could hear the smirk in John’s voice. “Calm down.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Voices played over the radio and Alex took a deep breath as John pushed inside of him, beginning slow and lazy thrusts that didn’t put either of them very on edge. “I want vodka after this,” he sighed.

“It’s nine in the morning,” John said.

“What’s your point?”

John laughed, a soft sound, and Alex loved John’s laugh, the only real thing about him that hadn’t been taken by Washington and twisted so much that it was unrecognizable as human _.  _ Alex supposed they were all like that, all just Washington’s pets, all with unwavering loyalty because anything else meant a bullet through the brain from the agent you considered a brother.

Of course he would be sent after John. John would be sent after him. Remind the traitor that their organization was the  _ world  _ and to turn against was to destroy everything you knew. No friends, no contacts, no family on the outside. It was a death sentence.

Silence descended. Alex pushed back against John, his nerves awakening, gripping the rail. John held him tighter, his thrusts faster, far too vanilla for both of them but it was hard to care. His hair was gripped and tugged and Alex swore in French, his back arched uncomfortably, his breathing far too loud. He couldn't  _ make love.  _ He didn't just refuse to love anyone, he couldn't get off from such gentility. They'd tried.

John came with shaky breaths and buried himself deep. Alex moaned and dropped a hand to his own cock, stroking slowly, until John batted it away and took it over. Alex leaned back against him and his breathing became heavier, more desperate as John worked at him, until he came into John’s hand with a gasp, slumping against him.

“Good boy,” John murmured. “I’d love to go a few more rounds, if you can take it.”

Alex looked at him, then sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on John’s shoulder. “If it’s too early for vodka, it’s too early for hardcore fucking.” He pulled away from John and rubbed at his eyes.

John grabbed his wrist, gripping it tight, pulling Alex back to him. “Don't be such a - “

_ Boom. _

The explosion shook the ground and the windows rattled. Screaming and car alarms began in the distance, and smoke arose from the bank. Alex and John glanced at each other.

“Hit the mark,” Alex said.

“Or Jefferson did it and Lafayette’s lying in the street.” John kissed his cheek. “But optimism, right?”

“Oh, shut up.” Alex walked to the window and climbed back in. He walked to the bedroom and grabbed his jeans off the floor, turning them right side out before pulling them on.

John followed. He had another cigarette in his mouth, flicking his lighter on. “And  _ where  _ do you think you're going?”

“My place. I need new clothes and I need groceries -”

John leaned against the doorway. He puffed smoke and watched Alex move with predatory eyes. “Move in with me,” he said.

Alex looked up. “What?”

“Move in. With me.” John walked over and pulled him in by his hips. They kissed, simple and deep. “... Your apartment is lonely and plain with a bed and a fridge. Live here and save the money.”

“So you can ambush me and tie me up for your pleasure every time I come home? I don't need to feel like I'm suddenly your next torture victim.”

“Don't tell me you don't love it, pretty boy.” John kissed him again. “At least consider it. Save your rent, move in here, I’ll clean up if it will convince you.”

“John, we’re  _ not  _ dating,” Alex said. “You're not my boyfriend. I'm not yours. This isn't.. it’s not a couple moving in together.”

“I'm more than happy to make you my boyfriend. To be yours. We could be dating, and you know it, and I don't understand why you act so scared of that.”

“I'm not  _ scared.  _ It's not  _ practical.  _ We put ourselves in danger every day, we could die any day, and you want us to be a  _ thing?  _ It's weakness, a string for someone to pull.”

“If I have a weakness, I'd prefer it to be you.” John walked back until they hit the bed. “... An extremely gorgeous weakness.”

Alex gripped John’s arms to not fall back. “We  _ can't,”  _ he said. “John. Seriously. We're not dating.”

“Alexander.” John cupped his cheek, ran his thumb beneath his eye. “I won't kill you. I won't hurt you like I hurt targets, I could never bring myself to do that to you. I care too much, way too much, and damn Washington if he orders me to do that. Move in with me, and when we’re home, we can try to be a  _ normal  _ couple instead of hit men working for an undercover crime ring.”

Alex gazed at him. He sighed, then wrapped his arms around John’s neck and leaned into him. “Normal couples don't drug each other,” he said. “If I move in, you cut it with sleeping pill bullshit.”

“And the ropes?”

“Let it be mutual. Trust me,  _ babe,  _ I can make you scream, too.”

John smirked. He squeezed Alex and kissed him, deep and demanding as their tongues met. Alex stood on the balls of his feet to reach better, then gasped and tensed when he was shoved onto his back on the bed. John crawled over top of him, that predatory look on his face that sent shivers down Alex’s spine. “Just clothes, right?” he murmured, brushing loose strands from Alex’s face. “Shouldn't take you long?”

_ “Today,  _ John?” Alex sighed as his hands were drawn up above his head and pinned to the mattress there. “Supposed to be an off day…”

“It is an off day. I've got that drawer I don't use, throw your guns and ammo in the closet with mine. Easy.” John shifted to straddle his chest, that gleam in his eyes. “Feel like deepthroating?”

Alex sighed. “You just came inside me.”

“I'm sure you can get me hard again.” John smirked at him and tapped his cheek. “Please?”

Alex sighed, then opened his mouth.

“Good boy.”

___________________________________________

“So, date night. Fancy restaurant with ridiculously expensive steak that we fight over paying for, or we stay in, order takeout, and watch cheesy movies? I'm thinking Disney.”

Alex sighed and adjusted his rifle, looking down from his perch on the roof. He rubbed at his eyes beneath his goggles, trying to ignore the strange look Tallmadge was giving him. “Laurens?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Reserve your weird ass conversation starters for when we  _ don’t  _ have tagalongs.”

“Oh, they know to keep their mouths shut for their own good. So, answer me. Fancy restaurant or a night in?”

Alex huffed and flipped his microphone off. “Focus on the target,” he snapped at Tallmadge, who hastily brought his binoculars back up. He turned it back on. “Shut  _ up,  _ Laurens, I'm serious.”

“You're adorable, you know.” Alex watched through his scope as Laurens and Brewster walked towards the drop off. “Since you're feeling so bitchy, I’ll go with a night in. Marvel marathon, maybe.”

“I'm going to fucking kill you,” Alex said.

“Shame. You'd miss my cock.”

Tallmadge coughed, his cheeks red even in the shadow, and Alex grumbled. “That's it.” He flipped the radio off and adjusted his goggles. “... Tell him I'm staying at Lafayette’s tonight.”

Tallmadge quietly relayed the message. After a few moments, he looked up at Alex. “He says you'll be missing out on Marvel.”

Alex sighed, watching as John and Brewster entered the building. He hated tagalongs, the shadow missions, when some pups were sent along to learn what it meant to  _ run with the pack.  _ Jesus, he hated the dog analogies. Initiation always involved killing, forcing them to take another’s life as proof of their dedication. Shadow missions was a way of showing them just how natural killing became.

“Think your buddy has the nerves?” Alex asked.

Tallmadge frowned. Ben, Alex was pretty sure his name was, but different nicknames were tossed around and he didn't really care to know the kid. “He won't turn away, sir,” he said.

“Laurens will have him at least pull a tooth. You're supposed to be engaged with this.” Alex sat back. He was just providing cover for John in case their target called backup, with some kid hanging on his shoulder, not even an assassination. He was bored. Bored and annoyed and  _ fuck this.  _ He pulled off his goggles and rubbed his eyes. And John would insist on their ‘date’, not letting Alex just go to bed,  _ fuck. _

_ Fucking fuck. _

“Just so the both of you know,” Alex started, “if you say  _ shit _ to anyone about us, I’ll personally make sure it's impossible for you to lose that virginity. Got it?”

The kid looked at him, somehow looking scared to death  _ and  _ embarrassed, then returned his gaze to the building. “Y-Yes sir,” he said.

“Good.”

Tallmadge shifted beside him, looking through the binoculars, and sat up straighter. “They're talking,” he said. “Arguing.”

Alex looked up and frowned. He watched through the window as their target backed away, hitting a desk. John stepped forward and slammed the syringe into his neck, and the man struggled before slumping. Alex leaned back and yawned. “You take over,” he said.

Tallmadge turned and stared at him. “W-What?”

Alex flipped his radio back on, but John and Brewster were quiet on their end. “I'm tired,” he said, “and we’re not expecting shit to go down. Watch and tell me if any cars come.”

Tallmadge looked nervous and adjusted his rifle. Alex grabbed his phone. Soon noise filled their headsets, John’s harsh demands and their target’s screams, and that sound might have shaken him years ago but now it was indifferent and white noise. The kid beside him was pale and sick-looking, and when the rumbling of a saw reached their ears, he turned his radio down.

“Give them the chance to spill,” Alex mumbled. “Tied up with torture devices spread out beside them, might get them to talk right away. Then it's cut, talk, cut, talk… Everything will come out, one thing at a time.”

_________

When they walked into the apartment, John was concealing his bloody shirt beneath his jacket. Alex shrugged his off and walked towards the kitchen. He was starving and the pie he’d bought in the morning was calling his name-

“Wait a sec.”

John caught him by the waist and spun them, pressed together and Alex’s back to the wall. Their lips hovered inches apart, a hand cupping his cheek. “... Don't act so ashamed of us.”

“It's make us vulnerable, John! The less people who know, the better, and you can't talk like that in front of  _ newbies  _ who don't know to keep their mouths sh-”

John cut him off with a kiss. Alex squirmed but was pinned in place, a knee pushing between his legs. When John pulled back, he glared up at him.

“Would alcohol and drugs make you less mad at me?”

Alex huffed. “You can't drug me to avoid arguments.”

“Those movies, then. You bring up Netflix, I make popcorn, we act normal?”

“Asshole,” Alex muttered. He gave John a hard shove with his shoulder, then slipped past him, walking towards the bedroom. “Change your fucking clothes, you still look like you butchered a guy.”

“Popcorn and beers, then? A lowkey date,” John said.

Alex whipped around, scowling. “I don’t want a  _ date,  _ John,” he snapped. “We’re not  _ normal,  _ we’re not  _ lowkey,  _ I’m never going to fucking  _ love  _ you!”

He wanted the words to hurt. He wanted to see that amused light go out of John’s eyes and he wanted to feel that uncomfortable silence that fell over them whenever they had an argument. He wanted John to feel as shit as he did and while John had the physical upper hand, Alex had his words, and he knew how to use them.

John’s smile faded but he didn’t frown, didn’t look upset, just stood in silence before he walked into the kitchen. Alex took a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest, and took a moment before he turned into the bedroom. Fuck that.  _ Fuck. _

He slumped onto the bed. He pulled off his boots and his jacket and his pants, leaving only his t-shirt as he slid into thin sweatpants and fresh socks. He slumped back onto the bed, then heard the shower come on. He closed his eyes, curled up on his side. Ready to sleep. Just  _ sleep. _

He was only just drifting off when the door swung open. He looked up at John, who leaned against the door with a pack of beers in hand, fully dressed. “I started popcorn,” he said. “You find something to watch.”

Alex stared at him, then sat up. He drew the blanket around him, then slowly stood. He walked to the door and stepped past John. “Iron Man,” he mumbled.

“Sounds great.” John pushed something cool and plastic into his hand. “Don’t wait up.”

Alex looked down at the remote. He rubbed at his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Jack?” he mumbled.

John looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I don’t love you.”

John only smiled. He set a hand on Alex’s back and pulled him close to plant a kiss on his temple. “I don’t love you, too,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> Tumblr - covfefe-quill


End file.
